


The Subtle Thunder

by severinne



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Awkward Romance, Community: picfor1000, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is on a mission he doesn't fully understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Subtle Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for picfor1000 Challenge 12; my picture prompt [was already sappy beyond belief so it's not entirely my fault](http://www.flickr.com/photos/calanan/3443054137/).

‘So,’ John began lightly, ‘you crazy kids keeping busy down here?’

‘Yeah... crazier than you’d believe…’ Rudy’s awkward chuckle crackled beneath the rhythmic retro-synth blasting his lab’s soaring vault. ‘Oh, we’ve had some wild nights… the stories I could tell…’

John knew Rudy was prone to exaggeration, even a sort of self-deprecating irony; better to bear that in mind than succumb to the angry buzz of indignation riling his blood. He focused instead on Dorian’s recharge bay, fingers absently brushing steel as he scanned the nearest benches, a chair, hell, _the floor_. Nothing.

‘Does he like this music?’ He spun about hopefully, caught Rudy with his mouth slack, eyes bulging as the gears of his peculiar mind shifted back to reality.

‘Um.’ His head tilted as though noticing the throb of Depeche Mode in his lab for the first time. ‘I… don’t know, now you mention…’

‘Some good you are,’ he growled under his breath as he stormed off. Something like regret clawed at his conscience but apologies could wait; this was more important.

 

 

 

‘I’ve already told you, John.’ Maldonado’s stylus tapped an impatient staccato at the air. ‘There’s nothing in those files you need to see.’

‘Shouldn’t that be my call?’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped. ‘That’s how clearances work.’

John winced past a self-conscious stab of stupidity, a deeper ache in his thigh. ‘He’s my partner,’ he insisted. ‘I need to see his record.’

‘No, you don’t.’ She leaned inward, stylus set aside and hands clasped together. ‘Whatever happened with the DRNs before… it doesn’t matter. He’s getting a fresh start. You understand that, don’t you.’ The non-question cut exactly where she intended, set John fidgeting in his seat.

‘I just want to know what he’s _really_ like.’

Maldonado almost smiled. ‘You could always ask him.’

‘Can’t,’ he muttered. ‘Want it to be a surprise.’

Her eyebrows flew up, astonishment plain on her face before she concealed it behind a weary hand. ‘Goddamn, John,’ she sighed. Even without anger or condemnation, her reaction stirred an uncomfortable heat up the back of his neck.

 

 

 

‘Okay, level with me, Rudy.’ No time to bother with preamble. ‘Is it that he _can’t_ eat, or that he doesn’t need to?’

Rudy threw him a condescending glare. ‘Bad enough you’re cramming his cranium full of bubble gum,’ he muttered. ‘Look, if you even think of ruining that impeccable machinery with noodles…’

John raised his hands defensively. ‘Okay, got it.’ A thoughtful pause. ‘What about bourbon?’

Rudy groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘Right.’ John sighed, at a loss. One of Rudy’s synthetic butterflies glanced past his ear, catching his eye in a wistful spectacle of jewel-like preciousness. Maybe…

No. Stupid idea.

 

 

 

It wasn’t just cats and kids; dogs liked Dorian too, or at least this oversized heap of golden fur had taken a liking. John smiled reluctantly, watching from a safe distance as Dorian ruffled the dog’s ear, let loose an incredibly authentic laugh that confused every rational corner of John’s common sense.

Dorian nudged the dog away as he regained his feet, laughter fading as he faced John. ‘Okay, you need to stop staring.’

‘What?’ His eyes widened, flicked forcibly away. ‘I’m not staring.’

‘You were,’ Dorian said. ‘You have been for weeks.’

‘What, I’m not allowed to look?’ John stared after the dog as it cheerfully fled the empty park, wondering where he could find a puppy at short notice.

‘John. Look at me.’

‘I’m _not_ staring.’

‘ _John._ ’

He sighed heavily, made himself confront Dorian’s remarkable eyes. ‘What?’

‘You think I can’t do this job?’

‘What?’ he repeated dumbly. ‘I never…’

‘You’ve been checking up on me,’ Dorian accused tightly. ‘Grilling Rudy, trying to get Maldonado to open the old files…’

‘Whoa, no, that’s not…’

‘Why have you been asking about me?’ Something like anger flashed in Dorian’s eyes. ‘What have I ever done–’

‘It’s for your _birthday_ , you prying little shit.’

Dorian froze.

‘My _what_?’

‘Your… y’know.’ John cursed under his breath. ‘Look, maybe I got it wrong, I know it wasn’t your first… but it’s the day we started working together so I figured… but you’re such an inscrutable bastard, I didn’t know what–’

He wasn’t prepared for it: powerful hands seized his jacket, a rough contrast to the surprisingly warm lips claiming his stupidly gaping mouth. John shuddered between panic and surrender, moaned softly as Dorian’s tongue… _fuck_.

John reeled back, wide-eyed and panting. ‘What the _hell…_?’

‘I’ll have that.’ Dorian was unfazed, even smug in his glowing happiness. ‘If it’s my birthday, that’s what I want. Problem solved.’

‘Problem…’ He fought down the urge to rage, to laugh, to grab Dorian and kiss him again. ‘What about what I want? Did you ever…’

‘Did I ever notice your biological attraction to me? Yeah, John, I did.’

‘I told you to stop that,’ he snapped, glaring down at his boots.

‘Part of the job,’ Dorian shrugged. ‘Sorry, man.’

‘Like hell you are.’ He stuffed his hands in his pockets, one last attempt at self-control. ‘Could’ve had a puppy if you played your cards right.’

‘Why would I want a puppy?’ A hand slid inside his open jacket, steadying against his heaving ribcage. ‘You probably make less of a mess.’

John choked on an involuntary chuckle. ‘I’m not gonna be your pet,’ he warned, reckless with a dawning worry. ‘And you’re not mine, either,’ he added sharply. ‘This isn’t just because…?’

Dorian’s nose crinkled with confusion, then distaste. ‘Hell, no,’ he growled. ‘I _want_ this.’

‘Really?’

‘I showed you my dick,’ he elaborated slowly. ‘Isn’t that proof enough, _detective_?’

John groaned at the memory, closed his eyes briefly to steady himself. ‘Good enough for me,’ he decided, a touch breathlessly. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Where?’

‘Promised Rudy I wouldn’t buy you dinner, so we’re skipping straight to dessert. Any complaints, birthday boy?’

‘I’ll be sure to let you know.’

‘Great,’ he growled, but Dorian’s second kiss – slower, so patient – flavoured the familiar bite between them with promise enough for now.


End file.
